


Repair and Conservation

by gowerstreet



Series: The world which hides at the corner of your sight [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: An awkward conversation, Gen, Intervening, Not exactly your housekeeper, The subterfuge of friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:18:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gowerstreet/pseuds/gowerstreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The discovery of something two months after Sherlock's funeral worries Mrs Hudson.  Discreet and urgent assistance is vital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repair and Conservation

**Author's Note:**

> This is an interlude which occurs approximately ten months before the beginning of A Flash of Gold Amongst the Grey, although it can be read as a standalone piece also.

She was possibly the last person Greg expected. Neatly dressed, on the slow decline between petite and fragile, nervously inhabiting a chair in the visitor area. Concern radiated from her.

“Mrs Hudson?” She smiled at him with brittle brightness.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt your day, but I need to talk to you in confidence. I’ve found… something.”

“Of course. I know just the place.” He turned to the desk sergeant. “Pete, I’ll be over the road. Mobile’s on.”

The desk sergeant nodded and went back to his computer.

She followed him out of New Scotland Yard to a nondescript café across the road. “Tea?” he offered.

“That would be lovely. Thank you.”

They nursed their mugs of surprisingly good tea. “Now, how can I help you?” He was all soft tones and gentle eyes.

“I – I don’t want you to think that I’ve been snooping,” she began, “but I’ve taken on more of the housekeeping over the last few weeks. Just to help John keep on top of things. He’s quite happy for me to pootle around with the hoover, especially as he sorts out the Tesco order.” She took a reassuring sip before continuing. “This was under John’s bed.” A rough cotton bag was pushed towards him.

Reaching in, Greg’s fingers hit a ridged barrel a textured hand grip. No mistaking what that was. “Hell…” he muttered, half under his breath. He withdrew his hand with practiced calm and set the bag cautiously down.

“I knew John had it,“ she explained. “Mycroft ensured it was appropriately licensed via a loophole. It’s not loaded but…”

“… you’re concerned that it could be.” A nod shivered out of her.

“He’s always trying to hide the worst from me, but walls and floors are thin in Georgian houses. His nightmares are happening more often, and they’re increasingly disturbed. I hear him more nights than I don’t.“ The words stuck in her throat. Greg waited while she composed herself. “I don’t want you to think that I’m afraid of John, because I’m not, but I’m afraid –for- him. “

“Understandable.” The last couple of months had been hard enough on all of them in different ways. “What has Mycroft had to say about this?”

“He has not been in contact since the reading of the will. I made it very clear that he was an unwanted presence under my roof. His PA drops off the rent, but I could hardly say that we’re on friendly terms.”

“Would it help if I called him?” She brightened slightly at his suggestion.

“Perhaps. “

“No time like the present.“ He sent a text.

Earth calling Mycroft Holmes. GL

The response came in less than a minute. “DI Lestrade, this is somewhat of a surprise. Is this a personal or a professional call?”

“A combination of both. Regarding an item of dubious legality which Mrs Hudson has brought to my attention.”

“ Ah.” Greg swore he heard the cogs in Mycroft’s head whirring.

“Exactly. If I actually saw such an item, I would be duty bound to confiscate it. The unavoidable legal and medical repercussions for John would not be good.”

“I see. And where is the aforementioned item?”

“In a disarmed state about eighteen inches away from this phone, between myself and Mrs Hudson.”

“May I speak to the lady herself?” Greg handed over the phone.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Hudson.”

“Likewise, Mr Holmes.”

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention. What would you have me do?”

“ Remove this from my premises. For Dr Watson’s protection, not mine. This is something your surveillance missed, is it not?”

“Somewhat, but I am deeply grateful that you have contacted me.”

Mrs Hudson sniffed dismissively. “I've lost one of my boys to your callousness. I don't want to lose the other. It’s about time you took responsibility for your actions.”

“My dear lady, that has become my life’s work.” He paused. “Could you please pass the phone back to DI Lestrade?”

“Certainly.”

Greg took back the phone. “So what happens next? Some of us have police work to complete.”

“As I am well aware. Your charm is as brusque as ever. I will have someone with you shortly.”

“I’d rather not know how you discovered our location.”

“The joys of the camera network, Detective Inspector. Crieff, my driver, will be with you shortly. Slight, ginger-haired, grey suit, blue tie.”

Greg glanced over Mrs Hudson’s shoulder and out into the street. “Got him.”

“Excellent.Do not disconnect this call. Pass the bag to him. It will remain in my care until such point as it is felt that the immediate danger has passed.”

The cafe door opened. The man who entered could have been Sherlock in a softer, younger universe. His smile was mild and genuine as he headed towards Lestrade.

“Good afternoon.” A polite but direct voice. “Mr Holmes sends you his cordial regards.”

“Thank you, Mr Crieff.” Greg bundled up the bag and passed it to him. “I believe this is what you’ve been sent for.”

Crieff took the bag and acknowledged them with a nod and another smile before heading back into the street. Mrs Hudson relaxed visibly. The entire exchange had taken just less than a minute.

“Your assistance in this matter has been noted. Goodbye, DI Lestrade.”

“Goodbye, Mycroft.”  
\-------  
John’s dreams that night were particularly vile. His vaguely conscious hand scrabbled under bed, and found an empty cardboard box. Unbelieving fingers pushed against its bottom and found a postcard. What the hell?  
He waited until the low energy bulb stuttered to brightness before reading its typed message.

This exhibit has been removed from public display for repair and conservation. We thank you for your patience.  
Friends of the Sigerson-Doyle Museum.

 

He slid the card under his pillow and snapped off the light, feeling strangely calmer.

____  
Two continents distant, an image of John’s unloaded gun flashed onto a mobile phone screen.

Danger night averted. MH

Make sure it stays that way. SH


End file.
